


Camelia

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Basically just characters transplanted to another world, Chill XV, Crossover, Fleurentia, M/M, Sex Worker AU, Shameless excuse to give Iggy a pretty floral tattoo!, tags to be updated as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 13:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13788960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: He would surely see this Monsieur Fleuret again. Perhaps- or very likely- only once, but no less than that. Naamah’s servants knew their patrons.





	1. Chapter 1

“The Dowayne would see you in his salon, Ignis,” reported one of the house apprentices.

“Thank you, Celestine. Did he indicate to what matter this may be in regard?”

“He did not.“

“Very well. Please inform him that I will be along presently?” She inclined her head silently.

“Thank you, Celestine.”

“There is a visitor with him,” she aded.

“A patron?”

She paused thoughtfully for a moment before replying. “I suppose he must be. He is not D’Angeline.”

Ignis Scientia nó Camelia watched the silently retreating apprenctice for a moment before readying himself to answer the summons. Celestine had begun a few months past, and was one of his students in the ways of the house. Having recently made his marque, he had taken no assignations while it healed- to go before a patron with one’s flesh still abraded from the marquist would be the height of impropriety for an adept of Camelia house. During this time, the Dowayne had asked him to teach the apprentices, especially in the way of maintaining house canon- _Without Fault or Flaw_ \- perfection. Or the illusion thereof.

It truly was an illusion. They were but human, children of Blessed Elua, as imperfect an mortal as any other with the exception of appearance- in that, no scar or blemish would do. Even their marques were rendered in such a way as to never appear incomplete. Donnig the robe of an adept, he mused on why he might have been called. Celestine had only surmised that the visitor must be a patron, though he could not imagine why else he would be called to attend if this were not the case.

Marque healed, he had begun taking assignations again. As it was completed, he was free to continue serving in the house, which would likely include further mentoring of apprentices in the ways of Camelia. Or he might open his own salon, or build a life beyond Naamah’s service altogether. He had found his time teaching apprentices to be an enjoyable one, and for some time now had felt stirrings of a longing to pursue study in university or with the priesthood of Shemhazai.

Not yet certain what would be his chosen path, he put it from his mind for the moment. He took a long breath and allowed an air of serenity to settle on him before stepping from his chamber and down the hall.

He inclined his head as he entered salon before crossing the room. Taking his hands and giving the kiss of greeting. Aristide nó Camelia was the very picture of all that the house embodied. His jet black hair was mirror-smooth and features were such that a sculptor would weep with envy to look upon them.

“Please, do be seated,” he spoke in a voice that was not overly voluminous but projected and enunciated in such a manner that his audience could hear every word and note of inflection exactly. Having issued the invitation to be seated, he returned to his own with a grace beyond courtliness. Good enough for royalty was still beneath Camelia's standard.

Ignis took a chair opposite, and was not surprised to see that the one next to him was occupied. He did not yet turn to face the third, but could see from the corner of his eye that this was a most distinctive-looking individual.

Retaining his focus on the Dowayne, he picked up what detail he could out of the corner of his eye. Despite being seated, he was obviously very tall and lanky. His hair resembled platinum and he was dressed in a foreign manner.

“Ignis,” spoke the Dowayne again, “This is Ravus Nox Fleuret. He is in Terre D’Ange on diplomatic business from Vralia.”

He turned towards the stranger. “Hello,” he said simply, instinct telling him that this was was not a time to offer a kiss of greeting. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

In full view, the man, who did not reply, was most striking indeed. His eyes were one violet, one blue, his skin pale. His face was set in a scowl, very unusual for one visiting a house of the Night Court. Behind the scowl though, there was a flicker of something else. A question, perhaps.

Before he could ask any questions, the Dowayne continued. “Monsieur Fleuret has approached us in an inquisitive spirit.”

“Then there is to be a showing?” Ignis asked.

“One has not been requested, no.” He looked to the visitor for further comment.

“In my land,” the stranger spoke passingly, but with a rough accent, “We would never think to hold up a mortal as a specimen of perfection. It would be of great hubris to do so. But you D’Angelines,” he paused, the word pronounced as one might speak of something distasteful on the underside of a shoe, “there is a whole house of you considered to be so, here.”

This was not an unusual sentiment from foreign visitors. “I see,” Ignis replied. His lips settled into a serene curve. “And how may I assist in this matter?”

The Dowayne spoke again. “Monsiuer Fleuret has requested to meet for himself the adept in our house with whom an assignation currently commands the highest price.”

He turned back to the other man, “You wish to contract an assignation?” Normally, this would be arranged by the Dowayne or his Second, but somehow, he had the sense that this was not a typical case. Naamah’s patrons were ever eclectic, and that extended to their approach in conducting business.

The Dowayne spoke again. “It was a simple request to meet, which I was inclined to grant.”

He maintained attention on the third man, his own interest growing. Leaning slightly forward, he asked, voice carefully blithe, “Is there aught that I might do or tell you to allay your curiosity?”

There was a hardness to those asymmetrically-colored eyes, but behind that, unease. The Vralian was unsure. Either he had no plan to what he would do after he met the requested adept, or there was something unexpected in this meeting that he hd not accounted for ahead of time. But through all that, maintained an unbending air. If he did not immediately speak in response, he also did not show any sign of distress. _Dahlia House would take an interest in that one_ , Ignis mused while awaiting a reply.

Finally, he did speak again. He shifted in his chair, but did not break eye contact. His words were not for Ignis. “I would prefer to continue our discussion privately with you, Dowayne?”

“Thank you, Ignis.” He was dismissed. 

Without further comment, he rose and nodded to each of the other men. “A pleasure to have met,” he murmured to the Vralian and left the salon. He would surely see this Monsieur Fleuret again. Perhaps- or very likely- only once, but no less than that. Naamah’s servants knew their patrons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's taken me this long to update. But here it is! I was really stumped for a long time as to how i wanted to continue- and I'll admit, I still don't really have a clue exactly what it will become, but here we are with a second chapter. It's an adventure!

As Ignis retreated from the room, Ravus watched him in interest. When he’d asked to meet the adept who commanded the highest contract price, he assumed that they would bring a woman. The Dowayne’s eyebrow quirked in amusement at his shocked reaction. In a land where “Love as thou wilt” was practically written within its people’s blood, should this be a surprise?

He certainly would not have seen this in Vralia. Men might love men, or women, women behind closed doors. But it would be a hushed thing. His mind reeled for a moment at the knowledge that he could walk into a house of the Night Court and, upon paying the appropriate price, freely contract such services of a man or a woman as he wished.

While he had expected a woman, he was not displeased to find himself proven incorrect, and the adept they had brought to meet him was no disappointment. Even by D’Angeline standards, he was stunning. Tall and lean of muscle with eyes like new spring leaves and hair the color of sunlight through wood smoke. Perhaps a few years younger than himself and obviously quite intelligent, Ravus found himself intrigued. He is no stranger to an interest in men, or even to occasionally acting on such attractions. But always, they had been rushed, clandestine affairs.

A voice cut through his thoughts. “Is there anything else that you wish to discuss?”

Ravus considered for a moment before answering. “I wish to contract an assignation.”

“Certainly,” the Dowayne replied with a pleased smile.

“With the same adept.”

“Of course. Please allow me to have a contract drawn up.”

He nodded, wordlessly, eyes flitting around the salon, spotlessly white with accents of pink and pale green, echoing the flower of the house namesake.

“When do you wish to schedule?”

“One week from today,” he replied after pause for thought. Soon, but enough time to respectfully cancel the contract if need be.

“May I offer you some refreshment? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

“It would be appreciated.”

The Dowayne sent for a tea service and folded his hands atop his desk. “Are there any further questions that I may answer for you regarding the Night Court or Camelia House customs?”

“It is my understanding that adepts are…discrete…regarding the comings and goings of patrons?”

Aristide gave him a knowing but understanding smile. “We hold confidence in the utmost of sacred regard.”

Ravus nodded. “Good. I would rather my other countrymen who are here not learn of this.” 

“That is understandable and you may be assured that if they should, it would not be from the tongues of those in Naamah’s service.”

“You have my thanks.”

“It is our way.”

“I am glad for it,” he said settling back and casting his glance around once more, thinking on the adept whom he had only briefly met but for whom his curiosity was already growing. 

This Ignis, he was obviously quite intelligent. Ravus may not have been familiar with Night Court protocol but he was certain that it had been broken when Ignis had turned to him and asked if he wished to contract an assignation. Ravus had been surprised at the directness; these D’Angelines so often tried to be subtle or diplomatic. While he had no doubt that Ignis could be just as much as any of them, and likely moreso, Ravus had also the sense that he may be better skilled at reading people then some of the other D’Angelines he’d met.

Once the contract was arranged and signed, Ravus departed Camelia house, looking around suspiciously as he did, concerned that one of his countrymen might spy him there. If this were to happen, he could always claim to be contracting with a woman, but even that would be frowned upon. He had a strong suspicion though that this was not deterring many of the other Vralians from visiting the Night Court and he’d indeed heard of at least two others claim to have been to one of those houses in hushed conversation.

The week passed, Ravus looked forward in anticipation, unsure what the appointed day might bring. He feared that Ignis may refuse to abide by the contract, though the Dowayne has informed him that servants of Naamah were bound to honor all contracts entered by patrons in good faith under threat of serious penalty. Once accepted, the only grounds under which they may refuse to carry out the contract being illness or injury, in which case they may only postpone the contract. Only in the case of a patron’s request, or a patron’s violation, might the contract be fully cancelled.

 

 

When the day arrived, he dressed in a manner that he hoped pleasing to the D’Angeline eye. Why it mattered, he was unsure. It was not his duty to be pleasing to the servant for whose services he was paying precious coin. Was it not the servant’s duty to be the pleasing one? And yet he took pains with his appearance, donning white hose under dove grey breeches, a white doublet trimmed in black, and a grey jerkin embroidered in subtle blue and lavender to echo his eyes. He tied his hair back with a simple strip of black leather. 

Were those glances of appreciation that he noticed directed toward him as he made his way through the palace corridors? Until today he’d adhered to his Vralian manner of dress though some of his countrymen had begun experimenting with D’Angeline fashions. 

Once outside, he made his way as he had the week before, to the nearest stable where he hired a coach with plain livery to convey him to Camelia house. 

“Monsieur Not Fleuret,” he was greeted upon arrival. By, as he surmised from his last visit, an apprentice adept.

“Welcome again to Camelia House,”the apprentice said, beginning a brief but pretty speech about how she hoped that he would find every aspect of his visit to the utmost perfection, and would he please follow her? She led him to the hall he had seen before and then through another door and into a courtyard with a small fountain and pond at its center.

“I am told that your assignation is with Ignis,” she said. “You are early.”

“My apologies,” Ravus offered stiffly.

“Not to worry,” she replied serenely. “Please wait here and I will advise him of your presence. If you’ve need of anything at all, you may ring this bell,” she informed him, gesturing towards a cord hanging against the wall. 

He nodded in response as she departed, allowing his gaze to flick around the courtyard. It was enclosed by a glass roof, it’s floor a gleaming white marble. Low benches covered in sumptuous cushions of white, and the palest pink and green, as he’d seen the in Dowayne’s salon, were arranged here and there around the pond.

Feeling slightly ill at ease, Ravus took a seat on one of the benches and stared into the water, wondering if he’d made a mistake. Perhaps he should go? If he rang the bell, could he ask someone to help him make up his mind. Would it have been wiser to seek counsel from a priest of Naamah rather than visit one of Her houses? But what counsel would he seek? Was he not here for the sake of pleasure?

Before he could decide anything, he heard his name.

“Monsieur Nox Fleuret.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing an FFXV/Kushiel's Dart crossover. And then someone gave me the idea that if Iggy were an adept of the Night Court, he would be an adept of Camelia, and oh the pretty pictures that came to mind. And I had to write it somehow, but it didn't fit into the other story I had started. And then Fleurentia week came up, and the sex worker AU prompt. And here we are. This is the first I've written of Ravus, or in the D'Angeline world, so it's a bit of a new experience for me. 
> 
> If you are not already familiar with the universe in which this story is set, I highly recommend the books, but this is a great place to start too:
> 
>  
> 
> [Kushiel's Dart Wiki](http://kushiel.wikia.com/wiki/Kushiel%27s_Dart)


End file.
